


Two Dead Boys

by asiriuswriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belladolphus, F/M, Rodoltrix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-20 15:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asiriuswriter/pseuds/asiriuswriter
Summary: Bellatrix and Rodolphus's relationship is anything but ordinary. As the First Wizarding War explodes through Wizarding London, the pair of malicious Death Eaters have more than just their lives to worry about as they battle for the Dark Lord's army in hopes of taking back the Wizarding World for Purebloods.





	1. The Strange and Deranged Lestranges

It was the first Thursday of the month and just as every month, Rodolphus Lestrange brought with him his favored pair of plaid boots yonder west, just there, over the riveting river that was home to mermaids and grindylows that didn't quite belong in bigger, better bodies of water. Upon his head sat a matching top hat of opposite colors- this a Christmas green, his boots a cherry red- and upon his shoulders rested a yellow spotted cape. Otherwise, the wizard dressed normally- as far as normalcy can be so conceived in Wizarding London in the year 1979, year of our Lord and savior.

The Strange had a way of creeping up on him quite suddenly and all at once, but in a way that was to be expected given the decisive and predictable frequency of his actions.

Bellatrix had long since learned to make herself scarce. Tonight, she'd told him to kindly land himself six feet beneath her feet as soon as possible, whatever that meant, and Rodolphus had taken such instructions as invitation to invade her cherished solitary time. How he'd discovered where she found herself was a story for another time, indeed.

"Knock-a-doodly-doo!" he cooed, vibrantly-dressed body facing square in front of an old, oak door. It was simpler to use his vocals than raise his fist for a rapping, when a portly fellow burst out of the old, distinguished pub, smacking Rodolphus square in the kisser.

"Aye- what're you doin' standin' in front've the door like that, chap?" he slurred, his round, pock-marked face red from drink. Rodolphus released a tickled giggle.

"Oh doodle! Your noodle would make the _most_ exquisite pinch of decor, matched perfectly with my boots! It's precisely the same color!" Rodolphus's index gently bumped the fellow's bulbous nose and it took the man two counts too long to react, his eyes squinting as he rose a combative fist to sock old Rodolphus square in the jaw, giving him a matching bruise on the side opposite of the door's impact. Rodolphus, however, ducked most graciously, indeed, and giggled once more. "Toodles!"

Those elegant, pointed boots, so harmoniously matching his glorious top hat, side stepped beyond the threshold of the old oak door and he disappeared within the pub.

It was the kind of place that made him miss the ocean. Humid and dense in a way that no amount of open windows- which they'd had plenty of- could air the place out. It smelled of a men's locker room and Rodolphus's nose twitched like a bunny, inhaling the scent stale beer and fried foods beyond the distinct body odor.

"Tsk tsk," he clicked, his head shaking in disapproval. Bar patrons and their absolute lack of interest in maintaining their health caused boiling blood to pump up and down his long arms and long legs.

NEVERTHELESS, that was far from the reason he arrived here, glowing like a firework, on a hot, July evening. There was a mission at stake- one that could, quite literally, mean life or death for he and his missus. Who was--where? There? Oh! Here, she was! Sitting most hideously upon an old, wooden bench, her dirt-caked fingernails tapping against a filmy tabletop with but a single dry martini sitting in front of her bony body. She'd not yet noticed his presence, her distant gaze focused on something beyond the open window beside her table.

Bellatrix was ovulating. How did he know? He'd sniffed her stained, cotton panties just that morning and there was no mistaking her body's need to swell with baby.

An heir was required for the pair's new marriage, and Rodolphus Lestrange had, up until this point, managed to avoid all such actions of consummation possible (not that Bellatrix even _tried_ to get near her husband- gods, no), but it was beginning to get _ridiculous_. Mother was _oh so_ pestering about giving her a grandson and he desired nothing if not peace!

 _Tonight_ was his chance to seduce his wife at last.

There, center stage, was step stool that called his name.

_Rodolphus. Rodollllppphuuuussss._

"Tee-hee!" 

With a hop, skip, and a jump, Rodolphus arrived on the slightly elevated stage with a crackling grin and stepped to the top of the stepper, voice naturally bellowing as he caught attention of everyone in the pub with arms thrown high in the air, his fingers splayed to attention.

"One bright morning in the middle of the night,  
Two dead boys got up to fight!" 

It was with little hesitation that he all but screamed, one foot on the stage, the other at the top of the stool before lifting himself and doing a one footed twirl, his balancing-skill _most_ admirable, indeed. All it had taken was _practice, practice, practice!_  


"Back-to-back they faced one another,  
Drew their swords and shot each other.  
One was blind and the other couldn’t see,  
So they chose a dummy for a referee!"

Bellatrix, of course, noticed him now- how could she not, his voice was so loud and...  _shrill!-_ and Rodolphus swore he could see the slightest intrigue written behind dark eyes. With an unnaturally wide grin, he continued.  


"A blind man went to see fair play,  
A dumb man went to shout ' _hooray!_ '  
A deaf policeman heard the noise,  
And came and killed those two dead boys."

Now, he paused, bending mechanically at the hip to pivot his body this way and that. Robotic in mannerisms, it was only in his face that life could be deciphered.  


"A paralyzed donkey walking by,  
Kicked the copper in the eye,  
Sent him through a rubber wall,  
Into a dry ditch and drowned them all.  
(If you don’t believe this lie is true,  
Ask the blind man – he saw it too!)"

Dead silence- _amazement!-_ followed for several long counts and Rodolphus ignored the belated golf-clap of the bar-goers as he leapt off the step-stool, straight into his lover's arms.

 


	2. Not On My Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix can't deal with her husband. She seeks comfort from the familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the second chapter to anyone who stumbles upon this fic. I wasn't really sure what I was going to do here, but this is what came out when I sat down to write! Thanks for reading!

_What an idiot._

Thin lips extended straight as a line, covering her teeth, and created the subtlest trace of dimples that would be cute if she _smiled;_ but right now, at least, a smile was the furthest thing from her agonized mind. 

The lump that was her husband hurled himself through dense air that smelled of his hideous cologne-- _perfume. It smelled purple, like lilacs and grapes--_ and the gin in her martini, and Bellatrix **Black** (she _refused, refused, refused!_ to deem herself a Lestrange. Not now. Not ever) managed a bored yet _concerned_ look before her slender fingers clutched her wand and she disapparated, disappointingly leaving her martini half full.

But it was so hard to be an optimist when it came to Rodolphus.

She left her martini half _empty._

Within milliseconds, sharp, black boots clapped against uneven cobbled stone at the gates of her sister's manor- _her sister's husband's manor-_ and she stood tall.

"Cissy, let me in," Bellatrix spoke, enunciating with all of the sharp consonants of England; elegant and pointed yet with this undeniable captive ready to strike like a snake. The wrought-iron gate eased open, slowly at first, creaking and groaning on its hinges- which she might fix should she respect Lucius, but she would _much_ rather take a healthy stab at his masculinity and his apparent inability to keep his Elves in check enough to keep up with their home- before she tore it open fully and marched along the endless walkway to the tall, foreboding, oak door. Narcissa opened the door before her sister could knock and Bellatrix welcomed herself in, casting aside her cloak which was promptly caught by an anxious House Elf occupying as little space as possible.

"What are you doing here?" Narcissa asked, rudely at first but more than made up for her tone with a fake brush of concern against her elder sister's elbow. "Everything okay?"

An exaggerated pout curled on Bellatrix's lower lip and her eyes widened in a way that resembled a kicked puppy.

"No! Everything is _not_ okay!" Immaturely, she stomped her foot and Narcissa quickly escorted her towards a secluded dining space, throwing worried glances over her shoulder. Tears had already welled up in Bellatrix's eyes. "He's _awful,_ Cissy! Just _awful._ I can't believe mother and father would make me marry _him!"_

Bellatrix fell against an oversized, high-backed dining chair with a huff and was promptly pushed in by a House Elf. Another delivered a tray of tea; but an open palm slapped the porcelain kettle to the floor, where it crashed, allowing scorching liquid to explode all over the stupid Elf. "Get out!" she screamed as she watched the thing scamper away, finally leaving her alone with her sister. 

"And just _what_ could he have _possibly_ done now?" Narcissa asked, her back towards her sister as she filled two goblets with straight gin- _she,_ at least would need this- and sat beside her sister.

"Who _knows?_ I never _know_ what kinds of things go on in his silly little head. He's like--like a _child._ Juvenile in every way. Marching around with that _damned_ top hat, that _stupid_ cape. Those shoes! _Grandmother's_ old, expensive, dragon-hide _shoes,_ Cissy! He has _ruined_ them!" Her fingers trembled around the goblet and the liquid lapped at the sides as she brought it slowly to her awaiting lips. "Lucius is a _pussy_ but at _least_ he does not fixate on _costumes_ and _songs._ Cissy, can I _please_ stay here? _Pretty_ please with fudge cauldrons on top?" For effect, Bellatrix clasped two hands together in front of her face and peered at her sister through thick lashes, _begging_ for an escape from the _shit hole_ life her parents assigned her.

Narcissa scooted back in her chair, sitting taller, and dropped her head to one side to crack her neck once, twice, three times, and fixed her jaw. She sipped from her goblet, her icy-blue eyes remaining on Bellatrix. When she placed the goblet down, Narcissa smoothed her skirt and shook her head.

"No," she said firmly. Bellatrix sputtered in shock, in valiant protest, but Narcissa rose a single index, forcing her sister to pause. "I said no, Bellatrix. You have your own house. Lucius and I--" she paused, leaning in as though she may be overheard, and continued in a whisper, "we are _trying_ to get pregnant, Bellatrix. Just because _you_ detest that buffoon you married does not mean I should not _enjoy_ my own marriage. I can't keep letting you stay here. It is impacting my relationship with my husband."

Bellatrix's hands wrapped around the edge of the sturdy dinner table and pushed herself out with all the might of a man thrice her size, face contorted in absolute disbelief.  _How dare she? How dare her sister **do** this to her?_

"I am your _sister,"_ Bellatrix hissed. "You do this to your own _blood?_ You choose _him_ over _me_?" Guilt-tripping, it had _always_ worked; but, this time, Narcissa's expression did not change.

"I'm not listening to your _goddamn_ excuses anymore, Bellatrix. You are 28 years old and act like a fucking _child."_ Anger reached Narcissa's eyes now and a quick glimpse of her reflection in a framed portrait had her taking a deep, calming breath. "Go home, Bella. I will see you for dinner on Friday. The Elves will see you out."

"Cissy!" Bellatrix screeched as three House Elves yanked on Bellatrix's dress. She automatically kicked at them, her shrieks of protest going unheard as Narcissa turned her elegant fucking back on her own flesh and blood and marched from the room, exiting through the kitchen door.

Bellatrix hit the stoop with a _thump,_ her ass taking the impact of cement from being _shoved out the door_ of her sister's home by a few House Elves was not the only thing that _stung._

"Well sca-rewwww you!" she called towards the house, waving a set of middle fingers in the air as her feet carried her, backwards, down the walkway. "Who fucking _needs_ you, you stupid bitch! Have _fun_ with that _girly_ little thing you call a husband! Don't _need_ you, anyway!"

As the creaking wrought-iron gate slammed behind her, Bellatrix realized she had nowhere else to go.

She was alone.

 


	3. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodolphus's attempt at feeling better after harsh rejection from the woman he was forced to marry. Part of him is livid but a smaller part of him wants to rekindle flames he is determined to reignite in their pointless, loveless marriage. He stumbles upon quite a treat at just the right moment and he is struck with a brilliant (?) idea.

Blood carved a path over his upper lip, a single line of cherry-red that tricked and dried now began to crack over his mouth and chin as boots crunched against pavement. 

  
Walking helped his transfixed mind. Helped him avoid _The Strange_ ; which, on normal occasions, was welcome to overtake his crowded mind to escape into that mind-numbing state of catatonia, but _not_ tonight. He was _livid_.

  
He’d practiced that act for _hours_. **H o u r s**.

 

Rabastan had been the only specter to his one man show and had clapped enthusiastically after _every_ beat in his poem. But _Bellatrix_. The fucking _wench_ that she _always_ had been, refused to stick around for his jolly applause. Refused to witness her husband’s well _deserved_ applause. 

  
Rodolphus’s nose broke on her chair and he hadn’t bothered to fix it- Bonky, the House Elf, was better at mending his bones than he ever would be. Right now, Rodolphus needed to cool off boiling blood. Fingers balled into fists at his sides and he meandered through thick crowds that seemed only to scatter as he pushed through, mania in his protruding eyes.

  
Beneath the chatter of voices and the hum of vehicles in Muggle London was the _softest_ tune of Yankee Doodle, sung melodically on Rodolphus's tongue. It grew louder as his eyes bulged. He needed to find someone. _Some_. **_Thing_**. to take his mind off that _thing_ that he lived with. It was  _most_ unnatural for him to feel stupid and unappreciated, but she certainly delivered tonight.

  
Rodolphus rounded a corner so quickly he nearly slammed directly into a woman clutching hands with a small child- a bright-eyed, bushy-haired little boy. She muttered a quick apology and Rodolphus paused on the spot as she side stepped, dragging her child with her. In a split-second, hasty decision, he reached out, his hand enveloping the boy’s chunky forearm so roughly that his arm _**ripped**_ from his socket and an immediate scream filled the night air. Rodolphus disapparated so quickly the woman had no time to react, no time to grasp her disappearing child.

 

Two sets of feet landed just seconds later outside Lestrange Manor and the screaming **stopped**. 

  
“Now, _now_ , little _birdy_ , there is _nothing_ to be scared of,” he cooed, his fingers brushing the child’s blonde hair away from his forehead so gently he could have been the kid’s father.

 

Well, technically, _now_ he was just _that_. 

  
It was a thought that put his turning mind at ease as he yanked the child’s lifeless arm, forcing him to jog alongside his skipping form towards the overbearing estate. The kid whimpered, his baby blues filled with sparkling tears, and Rodolphus came to a sudden and steady halt at the door, reaching a finger out to absorb leaking tears. He licked his finger clean and with wide eyes, pat the boy reassuringly on the head. 

  
“My _sincerest_ apologies about that _dangly_ little arm of yours!” he exclaimed so vivaciously a soft giggle resounded between screeching words. “I’ll have Bonk-a-doo fix that up in a _jiffy_! You’ll be all better before you can say ‘ _ **sandalwood**_!’ Tee _hee_!” It would harm the preserving process to hastily fix this child forevermore with a blemished arm!  No, no, he _must_ be fixed! He must be _perfect_ for the precise shelf he had in mind for Little Ren. 

 

"I shall call you Little Ren!" he exclaimed suddenly, belatedly, realizing several beats too late they'd simply been standing there, his eyes wide and smile wider.

  
The door opened to reveal the wide, blinking eyes of Bonky. 

  
“Master Lestrange called, sir?”

  
“Oh _yes_! _Good_ Bonky! You are _sincerely_ a treat beyond recognition! My _good_ sully sir! We’ve a _few_ untamed bones that _most_ certainly need to be mended! Me, a nose. This gorgeous fluffy head, an _arm_! May we seek your fixings?” Rodolphus asked with a prominent bow so deep and so low he could almost hear Bellatrix sniggering and rolling those eyes of hers as his nose nearly reached the ground. 

  
“ _Yes_ , Master Lestrange! Bonky world be _most_ honored to fix Master Lestrange and his new friend, good sir! Bonky lives to serve Master Lestrange!” the elf bowed them inside and Rodolphus swept through the threshold with the perplexed child, who continued to whimper and blubber at his side.

 

It was the most _glorious_ background music.

 

Bellatrix would most _certainly_ love her brand new doll! If _this_ didn't win her over, he was not sure what would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. Chapter 3. Slowly adding more. Thank you to anyone who reads this! Honestly, I'm just a Harry Potter nerd with super specific headcanons about the Lestranges and I feel this need to write them. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
